


Salt in the Wound

by Haunted_Immortal



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forever AU, Injury, Pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Immortal/pseuds/Haunted_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, just maybe, the reason for Henry's immortality is that he still has the original bullet in him. Only if the cursed object is removed may he become mortal. Set after season finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea a while ago and just had to write it down. Set after the season finale.

Henry stood over a corpse, absently rubbing at the old bullet scar through the thick material of his shirt, and though his face did not show it, his mind was distant, trying to nullify the low throbbing pain resonating from the ancient wound.

 

Lucas's words bounced uselessly off of him as he told his boss of his wild theory for the John Doe's death. "...think, Doc?" Lucas went silent for once. "Doc? Hey, Henry?"

 

"Yes, Lucas?" Henry started, glancing to his assistant hazily. He thought he saw a flash of concern in his dark brown eyes, but it was hidden so quick he almost believed it didn't happen.

 

"I... wanted to know what you thought of my theory." His shoulders were straight, but Henry saw the deflated look on Lucas's face when he realized that his boss hadn't heard him.

 

"I'm sorry, Lucas. I'm a bit distracted today. Please repeat it again." Henry's hand fell to his side and he clasped it behind his back to keep it from resuming its actions.

 

"Well..." His assistant raised his hands in a comical position, ready to depict the deceased's avid death when Jo strode through the clear doors of the morgue.

 

"Hello, Henry, Lucas. You guys up for a murder?"

 

"Always." Henry replied amiably, relieved to get a chance to escape the stifling yet chilling room. He retreated into his office for a moment and wrapped his dark blue scarf expertly around his neck, despite the warming spring air of New York.

  
Jo hid a smirk and led the two men from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

A fine mist of rain drizzled down around them, leaving silver droplets in the victim's hair. Henry bent over the still body, brushing a clump of sodden and muddy leaves from a vicious-looking slash across their abdomen.

 

Detective Hanson walked up behind him, a coffee in hand, the smell almost overpowering the strong stench of musty leaves. "Vic's name is Jennifer Brown. She worked at an old warehouse along the river." He reported, taking a long drought of his beverage. "Her boss reported her missing after she didn't show up for work on Tuesday."

 

"Either she was very punctual or her employer knew something. The wound was made post-mortem, and it seems no later than this morning." Henry felt along the gaping slash with gloved fingers, as if feeling for something. "Also, her stomach is missing."

 

Lucas gave Henry a look. "No way..."

 

Henry straightened, glancing at his assistant. "Yes, indeed, Lucas. Miss Jennifer Brown has been disembowled. I'll need to examine her more closely to figure the actual cause of death."

 

He watched as they lifted the body and put it in the van to deliver it to the morgue. His hand, working on its own account, drifted to his scar once more, rubbing at it with further aggitation.

 

"You okay, Henry? You look like you swallowed a spoonful of salt." Jo had stopped beside him, her eyebrow arched teasingly but her eyes we're dead serious.

 

"I'm fine, Detective. Just thinking." He replied, relaxing his face.

 

"You sure? You don't look that great." It as obvious she didn't believe him.

 

"I assure you, Jo, I'm fine." He swallowed, the pain growing more intense, like he was being slowly stabbed in the chest with a white hot poker. "I am needed back at the morgue."

 

Jo pursed her lips. "Alright."

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The drive back to the morgue seemed longer than it had been leaving it. The pain refused to abandon Henry, and he sat in silent discomfort in the passenger seat of the car.

 

Jo kept stealing worried glances at him. He was never this quiet. She looked up just in time. A belligerent driver had carelessly pulled out in front of her; she slammed her foot on the brakes and the car lurched to a halt.

 

The detective let out a string of colorful curses, but Henry took no notice. The sudden jolt had thrown him forward, but the seat belt had restrained him. Unfortunately, the jolt had sparked something in the bullet wound, setting it ablaze with new intensity. His face has blanched white, his eyes closed in agony.

 

"Henry?" Jo's voice was distant, like she was speaking through a long tunnel. His vision was dark and everything seemed muffled.

 

"Henry, you may be immortal, but you are _not_ dying in my car!"

 

"Not--dying, Jo. Just--take me to Abe." His voice was tight and high in octave.

 

Jo said nothing in return and shot past the road to the precinct,  instead heading for Abe's Antiques. 


End file.
